


My Pretty Blue Lips Begging, Take Me

by Ninyaaaaaaah



Series: If All Is Fair In Love & War, I Can't Do This Anymore [5]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Bondage, Breathplay, Choking, Dom/sub, Edging, M/M, NSFW, Pain Kink, Riding Crops, Rope Bondage, Rough Sex, Smut, Verbal Humiliation, honestly this is not pretty, mean dom Laf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 04:02:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11912814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninyaaaaaaah/pseuds/Ninyaaaaaaah
Summary: Laf introduces John to a new way to work through some of his demons. This short fic falls approximately three months after the end of "Feelings Like This, They Need A Home"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title is from "Bloodstream" by Transviolet
> 
> We'll see Alex again soon, don't worry. In the meantime - enjoy this little detour. 
> 
> Tags will be updated as we go because I'm not done writing this yet, so keep an eye out. Big thank you to everyone who suggested safe words!

John tried.

He really did. 

But some days it was too hard. Some days it was too much to take. His heart hurt less, now that he had Lafayette, but some days it still just hurt. Some days he was just weak.

Some days, helping Peggy at her clinic was too draining and the hardship too painful to witness and the sky laughed at him as it rolled in a storm and sent a crack of thunder straight through to the broken parts of his heart.

He couldn't face the thought of going home to Lafayette when he felt this shaken up, restless need to numb the pain and turn it into something that made sense too hot beneath his skin. So he ducked into a dingy bar on his way home, pulled up a barstool, and started to drink.

He didn't keep count of how many drinks he had, just tossed them back as the bartender filled them, sat staring at the wood counter top, sticky wet and shining with spilled liquor, just like he had so many times before. 

He was itching for a fight. Itching to feel the split of his knuckles against skin, the hot spill of blood, the crack of pain that would make everything feel crystal clear, for just a moment.

He stood, nearly fell over, and got caught in someone's arms, twisted to lay a punch into whoever it was that had their hands on him-

"Don't you dare punch me John Laurens," Lafayette's voice, low and deadly even.

John froze.

"What are you doing here?" John slurred. 

"I worried, with the weather, and when you did not come home right away I came to find you." Lafayette adjusted his grip, hauled John upright, and started towards the door.

All the fight left John in a rush. He stumbled along with Lafayette silently, out into the rain and towards home, the world spinning and blurring, rain soaking him through. He started to shiver, felt cold and felt like Lafayette was so far away, even though he was right there. 

Lafayette looked straight ahead as he walked, jaw tight, hair flattened from the rain.

"Laf..." John couldn't bear the thought that Lafayette might be angry with him, couldn't handle it if he gave up, if he decided John wasn't worth the trouble, was too much sadness and anger and too weak to keep himself together even though he'd promised to try...

"Hush. We're going home," Lafayette chided, tightened his arm around John's middle and kept walking.

Didn't look at him.

John was shaking hard by the time they got home, chilled to the bone from the rain and right through his heart from the way Lafayette still wasn't even looking at him, dammit.

Lafayette led him up to the bedroom, stripped him out of his soaked clothes, and helped him into the waiting bath, brimming with bubbles and the strong scent of lavender. 

All without a word.

John sank into the tub, teeth chattering. Wrapped his arms around himself and held on tight as he shook, wanted to drop his head down but didn't want to drown. 

He swayed, feeling nauseous and lost, all alone with his broken heart and too big feelings too close to the surface.

Lafayette came back, stepped into the tub and sank down opposite John. 

"John..." he started, looking at John with sad eyes, mouth tight, brow furrowed.

"Laf. I'm sorry Laf, I'm sorry," John whispered, and he broke apart. Tears streamed down his face and he hugged himself tighter, trying to keep it all in, keep it contained, put everything back where it belonged.

"Come here little one." Lafayette opened his arms, and John flew into them with a great slosh of water that spilled over the side of the tub. He burrowed his face in Laf's neck and sobbed, clinging to him, shivering and feeling sick.

"Easy my love. I've got you." Lafayette wrapped his arms around John and kissed his head, held him tight.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. If you hate me I understand-"

"No, baby. No. Stop. I don't hate you, I love you very much. I will come out in the rain and find you and bring you back as many times as it takes, John. I'm not leaving, I'm just asking you to stay." Lafayette hugged him tighter, possessive. Kissed his head again. Rubbed his back.

John shook his head, choked on a sob and just cried harder.

"Shhh, easy my love. Breathe," Lafayette's voice had warmth in it again, a steady calm that John didn't deserve in his life. 

He felt like shit. Guilt and pain so raw and huge inside him he didn't know how he would ever sit with it.

"I don't deserve you," he whispered, tears beginning to slow.

"Hush. You do deserve me, John. You make my life better just by existing. Also, you do not get to decide what I deserve. Only I can decide that." Lafayette's hand stroked up and down his back, steady and calming.

John hiccupped, and nodded against Lafayette's neck, still felt awful, still felt like he was all bruise and too much feeling, but he was safe in Laf's arms.

"That's it. It's okay, John. I understand," Lafayette murmured, and John knew that, he knew he did, knew Laf had lost someone to the war too, and took a deep breath at the remembering of it.

"I'm sorry Laf," he whispered again, needed to say it, felt like if he said it a million times it wouldn't be enough to make up for all the ways he was inadequate.

"Shh, I know little one. I know." Lafayette kept stroking his back, rocked him gently until his shivers calmed and his tears slowed, then stood carefully and set John on his feet on the rug.

John leaned into Lafayette, let him towel him dry, closed his eyes and just thought about breathing, soaked up the warmth of Lafayette's attentions. 

"Come on to bed my love. I have an idea that I think might help you, but we will discuss it in the morning, okay?" Lafayette guided John to the bed, tucked him in tight and kissed his forehead. "I will be right back, I'm not leaving you, I promise." 

John burrowed deeper into the blankets, the world still spinning lazily, soothed by warmth and the comforting smell of Lafayette in the bedding. 

Lafayette was back before long, glass of water and a bucket in hand. He put the bucket on the ground beside John's head, placed the glass on the bedside table, and climbed into bed.

"I love you so much little one. I knew you had these demons, and I want to help you with them because they are a part of you and so I love them too, and I want to help them heal. Come here." Lafayette opened his arms for the second time that night, and John curled into him. 

Fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

John felt even worse when he woke up. 

He remembered something brittle inside him snapping. Remembered the rain. Remembered the way the thunder rolled right across his heart and left him breathless. He remembered the burn of liquor that felt like relief and defeat all at once...

Remembered the pain in Lafayette's eyes, remembered almost punching him, remembered coming all undone in the bath, and then later, vomiting into a bucket with Lafayette's hands steadying his head.

Shit.

He groaned and curled up, wished he felt worse physically. Pulled the pillow over his head. Tried to breathe.

Lafayette tugged the pillow away and tossed it aside.

"I'm such a fucking failure Laf I'm so sorry," John wailed, admitting defeat. He couldn't do this. He wasn't strong enough.

"Enough. Sit up John. I have an idea I'd like to discuss with you. I think it might help." Lafayette's voice was no nonsense, made something inside John snap to attention.

"What?" John struggled upright and leaned against the headboard. Pulled his knees to his chest and groped for the glass of juice he knew would be on the bedside table. Laf was too good to him. 

He sipped the juice, and looked at Lafayette.

Lafayette was watching him steadily, book in his lap, hair pulled back. Looked like a vision from heaven, as always. 

"This need you have, to punish yourself, to wear your hurts on the outside... I would like to try something. Have you ever been tied up, John? Have you ever been teased and driven to the brink of orgasm so many times you thought you would die if you did not get to come?" Lafayette said all of this with an even expression, watching John closely.

John blinked, glass halfway to his lips.

"Uh.. no. What? You want to tie me up? How will that help?" John frowned, confused. He took another sip of juice, and stared at Lafayette like he'd lost his mind.

Lafayette grinned.

"Being robbed of control and pushed to the very edges of all of your edges can be quite liberating, I'm told. Would you be open to trying it? We will establish some safety rules, so that no one is hurt, and only with your say so, John." Lafayette continued. 

John set his juice down, rubbed at his wrist, thought about how badly he hurt sometimes. How it was just too much to hold on the inside, and he had to get it out from under his skin somehow. 

"Can I think about it?" He asked, tilting his head.

"Of course." Lafayette smiled softly and opened his arms.

Heart twisting, John curled himself into Lafayette's embrace, tucked his head under his chin, and closed his eyes.

Lafayette kissed the top of John's head and hugged him tight.

"You are the most precious thing there is, to me." He spoke softly into John's hair, and John's breath hitched. 

"I love you," he whispered back, instead of apologizing for the hundredth time.

-

They spent the day in bed, quiet, wrapped up in each other. John could feel that restless need itching under his skin, ballooning in his chest, too big to sit with, too sharp to swallow.

Late in the day, he turned to Laf.

"Okay. I want to try it." He wanted to crawl out of his skin, wanted to hurt, wanted to feel bones break, hot rush of blood down his chin, world blurred and narrowed and then brought into sharp focus by pain. He owed it to Lafayette to at least try. 

"Are you sure?" Lafayette propped himself up on his elbow, stared intently down at John.

"Yes."

"When?"

"Now."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is just porn. Skip if you want, you won't miss anything that's essential to the plot.

John shifted a little. Felt restless, felt poised, felt just on the edge of something brand new and terrifying. His skin hummed with it. 

They hadn’t even done anything yet, not really.

John was alone. 

The blankets and pillows were gone from the bed, folded and stacked in a neat pile against the wall, out of the way. 

John sat on his heels in the center of the naked bed, cream coloured sheets soft on his legs, hands folded neatly in his lap. Lafayette had pulled his hair back into a tight braid and secured it, left John like that, told him to wait, told him not to move. 

So John waited. 

He didn’t move. 

He stared down at his hands in his lap. Clean hands. Whole hands. 

Wanted them ripped, wanted them bruised, bloody, torn. Wanted this shaking, aching, too big feeling out of his chest where it hurt too much, and that was the only way he knew how to make that happen. 

Prayed Lafayette’s idea would work, because he knew it hurt Lafayette a whole different way, when he came home drunk and bruised and bleeding, and that wasn’t fair. 

Lafayette returned with an armful of stuff that he dumped on the oak chest at the foot of the bed. 

Tangles of rope. A riding crop. Strips of black silk. 

“Good boy,” Lafayette spoke the praise almost like an afterthought when he noticed that John hadn’t moved a muscle. 

Something deep inside John warmed a little bit.

Lafayette sat cross legged on the bed, facing John. He studied him closely for a long moment, silence stretching between them. 

“So. A couple of things, John. If at any time you would like to pause, if you start to feel like you might not be alright with something we’re doing, something I do to you, or need a break for any reason, say the word ‘steady’. If you need to stop immediately and not continue, for any reason whatsoever, say the word ‘whoa’. Anything other than those words, and I will not stop. That includes ‘no’, and ‘stop’. Got it?” Lafayette watched John closely while he spoke, but made no move to touch him. 

“Steady? Whoa? I’m not a horse, Laf,” John tipped his head to the side. 

“I know you are not a horse, sweet thing. I chose words that would be easy for you to remember, even when your mind and body are under a great deal of intense stress. If you would care for different words, we can use something else, but we must have words that are distinct in their meaning.” 

John shifted, and Lafayette made a soft ‘tsch’ sound, much as if John was indeed a horse. 

“Okay. No, those words are fine. If I need to pause, steady. If I need to stop, whoa,” John recited, voice a little shaky. Body statue still. 

“Good. I may want to check in with you, even if you do not use a word, and if so I will say ‘check?’. You need to answer me if I ask you. If you are okay to keep going, say ‘canter’. Okay?” Lafayette looked the picture of ease, limbs loose and relaxed, expression neutral on his face. He’d tied his hair back in a tight pony tail, and was dressed in loose, soft clothing. 

“Okay. You can ask me for a check, and I need to answer with either steady, whoa, or canter,” John repeated, nodding that he understood. 

“Perfect. If I have robbed you of your ability to speak, and you need to stop, you will hum this-“ Lafayette hummed a four note tune, “Now, think hard little one, is there anything, anything at all that you can think of, that you do not wish me to do to you?” Lafayette asked. 

John chewed his lower lip. Worried at a chapped spot until it stung under his teeth. Shook his head.

“No. I trust you.”

“Good. We begin. You are to address me as Sir, and you are not to speak unless spoken to unless it is to use a safe word. If you fight back, I will put you in your place.” Lafayette’s tone turned authoritative, and John’s eyes widened, just a touch, tremor of nerves sending his heart rate higher.

“Laf-“

The crack of the back of Lafayette’s hand across his cheek was deafening. So sudden and powerful it startled a grunt from John as his head snapped to the side, sharp sting and blossoming heat. 

He turned his head slowly back to stare at Lafayette, eyes wide. Lafayette sat there, perfectly still, perfectly relaxed, as if he hadn’t just smacked John so hard John’s head had nearly separated from his body. 

John worked his jaw silently for a moment, staring at Lafayette. 

“…what the fuck…” he whispered. 

CRACK.

His head whipped the other way, teeth rattling in his skull, heat and pain blooming out from his cheek, strangled sound of protest from his throat. 

Mouth open, John turned his head back, whole body trembling, light sheen of sweat breaking out over his body, everything hot and cold all at once, his eyes wide as saucers. He worked his jaw again, felt a little loose. Hot. Sensitive. 

Lafayette still sat there like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t even moved. 

John stared at him like he’d lost his mind.

“Check?” Lafayette asked, voice clipped. 

“Canter. What the fuck Laf-“

CRACK.

His head snapped to the right again with the force of Lafayette’s backhand. 

Again, John dragged his head back to centre, cheek smarting, eyes wide and watering, anger heating his blood below the ice cold of shock. 

“What-“

CRACK.

To the left, this time. 

Again, John dragged his head back to centre, breathing hard through his nose. 

“Think. How stupid are you, John? Think about it. Think about what I literally just told you. Gods it’s a good thing you’re pretty if you’re this fucking dumb.”

John gaped at Lafayette like he had two heads, too stunned by the sudden change in his lover to process much else. 

“Why did I hit you, John?” Lafayette asked, voice even.

“Because you’re a fucking asshol-“

CRACK.

John didn’t turn his head back this time, just stared blankly at the wall, hands shaking in his lap, cheek hot, raw, sensitive. Something inside him warm, started to shake. 

“Think, John. Do I have to spell everything out for you? Are you really this stupid, so useless you can’t even follow simple instructions?”

Oh.

Ohhhhh.

“No, Sir,” John breathed. 

“Took you long enough,” Lafayette sneered. 

John closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. 

Turned his head slowly and looked at Lafayette through wide, wide eyes. Felt a little loose, felt like the force of Lafayette’s hand on his face had rattled something loose inside him. 

Lafayette stood up, and picked up the riding crop. 

John swallowed hard, watching Lafayette’s every move.

“Check?”

“Canter, sir,” John sneered, couldn’t help it, all his fight right under his skin, burning bright and hot.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but it did. The sting of the riding crop on his thigh was brighter, harsher and more focussed than the dull force of Lafayette’s hand. It sucked the breath out of him in a sharp gasp. 

“Is that the best you can do?” He snapped. 

Lafayette’s hand snagged his braid, yanked his head back roughly on his neck, fist full of hair and holding on tight. He leaned in, mouth right next to John’s ear.

“I would be thinking about changing my attitude if I were you,” He hissed. Low. Dangerous. 

“Fuck you,” John spat back. 

Lafayette twisted his hand in John’s hair, pulled it roughly. 

“Sir.”

“Fuck you, Sir.” John burned and burned, needed to hurt, needed to fight, needed to be taken apart. 

“Don’t move.” Lafayette let him go, voice sharp, and stepped back. 

John grinned. Rose up onto his hands and knees. 

“Make me.” 

Lafayette was on him in a flash, hand under his chin, flipping him onto his back and pressing down. 

John swore, thrashed against Lafayette and tried to get away, Lafayette’s knee in his stomach, hand around his neck, all of these things that John could understand, ways he could hurt that made sense, and he fought harder, twisted to try to bite Lafayette’s arm until Lafayette smacked him again, three times in a row, made his jaw snap shut, teeth clacking together painfully, eyes watering. 

Lafayette’s knee pressed into his belly, drove the air out of his lungs, made it hard to get a breath, so John got his hands around Lafayette’s arm, tried to pry his hand off his throat, struggled and swore, grin on his face as adrenaline soared through him, but then Lafayette was hitting him again, over and over and over until he was dizzy and sweating and shaking, drool at the corners of his mouth. 

Lafayette’s hand closed, robbed the next breath from John’s lungs. 

John choked, gagged, caught by surprise, and thrashed weakly against Lafayette’s hold. 

Lafayette didn’t let up, and John’s vision started to swim, lungs burning. He swallowed hard against Lafayette’s hand, gaped his mouth open and struggled to breathe, wondered if Lafayette truly had lost his damn mind, and just before he broke and hummed those four notes, Lafayette let him go. 

John gasped for air, dragged huge gulps of air into his lungs. 

Lafayette’s hand closed again. 

John’s ears rang, vision going white, his pulse throbbing against Lafayette’s fingers. His grip slackened and his hands dropped from Lafayette’s arm, choked sounds from his gaping mouth. 

Again, just before he thought he’d break, thought he’d have to hum the words, thought Lafayette really meant it-

Lafayette let him go. 

Disappeared for a moment, just enough for John to draw his first full breath since Lafayette had knocked him onto his back.

“Check.” Lafayette snapped, the word like an order, like the crack of a whip. 

“Canter,” John croaked. “Sir.”

Lafayette was back, rope between his teeth, hands back around John’s neck, both of them this time, and he was pressing down, fingers closing in, digging deep, cutting off John’s air again. 

His body bucked, automatic response that he couldn’t control, and he thrashed his head back and forth, trying to find wiggle room under Lafayette’s grip. 

There was none. 

His heart beat wildly against his ribs, lungs on fire, stars in his vision-

Lafayette let him go. 

John breathed in-

Grunted when Lafayette slapped him again and drove the breath right out of his starved lungs. Choked on a dry sob. 

Hands closed over his neck again, breath gone, just fire in his lungs, fight burning under his skin, vision black and white and blurring. 

Gasped a deep breath, and Lafayette slapped him again, once, twice, three times. 

Choked him again. 

Let him go and smacked him again. 

Again.

Again.

Again. 

Until John was limp and loose and drooling, breathing heart, heart hammering in his chest. He couldn’t have stood up if his life depended on it. 

Lafayette wound the rope around John’s wrist, tied it tight, rough fibres rubbing against soft skin. Stretched his arm out and tied his wrist to the bed post. 

John knew it was happening. Couldn’t have fought it if he’d wanted to. Lay still and spread eagle, just trying to breathe, face wet with drool. 

Felt the rope settle around his other wrist. Tugged tight. Tied off. 

Then one ankle.

Then the next. 

A strip of silk settled over his eyes, blacked out the whole world. Lafayette tied it tight behind his head, and left it in place.

Then he was just stretched out, room spinning around him, untouched and helpless and feeling like he was seconds from floating away, just a touch from shattering, and the fight still simmered hot under his chest and his cock was rock hard and laying on his belly and everything felt all strange and out of focus…

Everything snapped right back into focus when the riding crop lashed into his side. 

John howled, body jerking at the sudden, sharp pain bringing everything back into focus. 

“Quiet, Laurens.” Lafayette snapped. 

His voice sounded a million miles away. 

The crop touched John’s belly button. He flinched, strangled whimper from his throat. The cool leather trailed up the center of his torso, feather light, barely there. Goosebumps rose on John’s skin and he held his breath. 

Lafayette tapped the hollow at the base of John’s neck. Once, twice, three times. Dragged the tip of the crop up his throat to his chin. Tapped him on the mouth. 

Took the crop away. 

John whined at the loss of contact, didn’t like not knowing where the crop was, where it was going to land next. 

Cried out with pain as it bit into his other side, hot white stripe of pain across the blackness of his vision. 

“I told you quiet.”

Lafayette’s voice made John jump. The crop bit into his thigh and he yelped again. 

Everything went still. 

John heard Lafayette sigh. Heard the soft rustle of clothes being removed. Waited, breath shallow, sides stinging, face smarting from being smacked so many times. 

“Open.” Lafayette’s voice was back, right by his face.

John shook his head. Gritted his teeth. Didn’t know what Lafayette was doing but didn’t want it. 

“You are trying my patience, Laurens,” Lafayette snapped. Seized John’s jaw in his hand and squeezed at the sides until John’s mouth was forced open. 

John squealed in protest when his mouth was stuffed full of cotton, tied in place by a rope around his head, tight in the corners of his mouth. Lafayette’s scent suddenly flooding his nose, taste of him on his tongue. 

“Shut the fuck up, I don’t want to hear it.” Lafayette smacked him again, so hard John’s ears rang and he saw stars. Something that sounded like genuine anger in Lafayette’s voice, and it made John shiver, made him ache and ache and ache to make it right, to be good, to take that anger away. 

The crop hissed through the air, lashed across John’s outer thigh. Struck four more times in rapid fire succession, alternating legs. 

John trembled in his ropes, whole body tight, straining against them and hissing when they bit into his skin. Wanted to scream, wanted to beg, wanted to plead for Lafayette to tell him how to be good.

The crop returned to the inside of his thigh, stroked up towards his cock with the lightest touch. 

Then nothing.

It went on like this for what felt like an eternity, soft touches alternating with sharp, stinging pain, and then nothing. On and on and on, all over his body, no pattern that John could discern, so he was left guessing. Left tense and shaking, drool soaking his face, body covered in a fine sheen of sweat. 

Lafayette said nothing, and the silence opened a yearning hole in John’s chest, took the emptiness that always sat there and ripped it wide, licked into every corner of it with hot lashes of the crop. Made him burn and shiver, strangled whimpers escaping him despite his best intentions. 

The tip of the crop touched the head of John’s cock, and John started to cry. Tossed his head back and forth, strangled sound of protest, body shaking harder. 

The crop tapped, ever so gently. Sent a jolt straight through John’s whole body. 

Stroked down the length of his cock. 

Tapped his balls, lightly at first, steadily harder and harder until John was panting, the head of his cock slick with precome. 

“Knock twice on the bed if you are okay,” Lafayette’s sharp, cold voice tore a keening sound from John’s throat, but he knocked obediently on the bed post. One. Two. 

“Good.”

John’s blood heated at the clipped word of praise. 

The crop stilled. 

John held his breath. 

The crop disappeared. 

Tapped John on the mouth. 

Disappeared.

Slick, oiled fingers pressed right over John’s hole, made him jump again. 

Breathed out as they stroked a gentle circle. 

The silk over John’s eyes was soaked through with tears that he couldn’t stop now, steady stream pouring down his face, soaking into his hair. He only shook harder as Lafayette’s fingers sank into him, two at once, burning and stretching. The pads of Lafayette’s fingers just barely brushed over John’s prostate before retreating again, stretching him out, third finger sliding in, pumping in and out with a punishing pace, only occasionally brushing John’s prostate. 

John squealed again in frustration, desperate for touch, the tiniest teases of pleasure so intense after so much pain. 

Lafayette twisted his fingers and dug into John’s prostate, so sudden and hard that John howled against the fabric in his mouth. 

“That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” Lafayette sneered. His voice stung and burned and John tossed his head, strangled sob in his throat. Felt starved for a bit of affection, felt all undone and so close to the edge of _something_.

Lafayette took his fingers away, replaced them with his cock, pushing in roughly. 

John gritted his teeth around the cotton in his mouth, breathed out in sharp puffs through his nose, almost giddy with the promise of relief.

Let out a loud sob when Lafayette’s hips mimicked his fingers, thrusting absently, almost bored, missing John’s prostate more often than not, everything so much and not enough, all at once. 

Lafayette’s hand closed around John’s cock, squeezed cruelly, made John sob against the gag. 

His body burned in so many places, sharp stings and dull aches, throbbing jaw, raised welts on his skin, Lafayette’s cock driving punishingly against his prostate, and John could feel himself starting to come unhinged, felt like he wasn’t quite in his body anymore. 

Lafayette relented, started to stroke John’s cock for real, hips moving harder and faster, hitting John’s prostate with every thrust now. 

It was too much, after so much pain, and John could feel his orgasm rushing up fast, too much, too intense, made him pant and toss his head back and forth on the sheets-

Lafayette squeezed down hard on the base of John’s cock, halted his orgasm in its tracks. 

John howled through the gag, broke down sobbing in earnest, choking on tears, choking on the gag, every nerve alight. 

“Did you really think I was going to let you come?” Lafayette laughed, actually laughed. Cruel sound. Cold sound. Broke John apart a little more. 

He stroked John’s cock again, stroked him right up to the edge of orgasm and squeezed hard again, stopped it in its tracks. 

Did it three more times, hips moving lazily the entire time, until John was gagging he was crying so hard, felt almost sick, felt feverish, felt like one tap in the right place would shatter him. 

Lafayette pulled out, left John dripping and empty, untouched. 

The only sound in the room the sound of Lafayette’s hand, stroking his own cock, and then the softest, punched out sound from Lafayette’s lips, and hot ropes of come splashed onto John’s chest. 

John shook uncontrollably, everything too tight, too hot, too much. 

Lafayette’s hand returned to his cock, stroked him hard and fast, had that orgasm rushing up to him so fast John thought he might faint. 

The riding crop bit sharply into his side just as he started to come, and John’s whole body jerked and he screamed against the gag, wave after wave of pleasure so intense it stole the breath from John’s lungs, wrung him out and left him shaking and empty, oversensitive, and shattered. 

Lafayette let him go, and John heard the sound of the pump handle and then the rush of water hitting the tub, and then Lafayette was back, untying the silk from John’s eyes and tossing it aside. 

John blinked in the sudden light, soft candle light on the walls, darkness outside. 

Lafayette leaned down, kissed his forehead, then undid the rope around his head, lifted it from his mouth and pulled his underwear from John’s mouth and tossed them aside too. 

John’s teeth chattered, and he stared up at Lafayette with wide eyes, sobbing louder now that he wasn’t gagged.

“Untie me Laf, untie me untie me untie me, please please untie meuntiemepleaseplease, please!” He sobbed, needed to be set free right now, felt like he was flying apart all over again. 

“Shh, shh, it’s okay baby, it’s okay, I’ll get you out.” Lafayette didn’t bother with untying the ropes, just sliced them off with his pocket knife, first the wrists, then the ankles. 

John curled over onto his side, arms and legs tucked in, and sobbed harder, relief and release and the intensity of it all overwhelming. 

“Can I touch you?” Lafayette knelt beside the bed. 

John nodded, and Lafayette reached out, put a gentle hand on John’s shoulder. 

“That’s it, there you go, good boy. You were so good John, you did so well, you took so much. I love you so much little one, I love you, I love you, I love you. You’re so strong, you’re so good.” There was an edge of something in Lafayette’s voice, and he spoke quickly, words almost tripping over each other, falling on John’s ears like music. 

John hiccupped, tried to breathe, tried to slow his tears, didn’t succeed. 

“Laf!” He choked out, reached out for Lafayette, needed him close, needed him so damn much. 

“Oh my love, oh sweetheart, was it too much?” Lafayette crawled up onto the bed and gathered John into his arms. 

“No,” John shook his head, curled into Lafayette and hid his face in Lafayette’s neck. 

Lafayette rocked him gently, pressed soft kisses to the top of his head, held him close. 

John sobbed and sobbed, wrung himself out, cried himself shaking and exhausted and breathless, clinging tight to Lafayette, shaking like a leaf. 

“I love you John, I love you so much. I’d give you the whole world if I could, I’d take all of these hurts from you, I’ll do anything to help you make it better, I promise. I love you, I love you so much,” Lafayette’s voice shook, just a little, and John pulled back to look up at him, blinking through wet lashes. 

“Laf!” He sucked in a sharp breath, reached out and brushed the wetness from Lafayette’s cheek with his thumb. “Laf you’re crying.” Still shook, was still crying himself, tears tracking slowly down his face, breath shaky. 

But Laf crying… that shook him. 

Lafayette shook his head, laughed wetly. 

“I am alright.” He spoke softly, cupped John’s chin in his hand and kissed him, slow and sweet, licked the raw corners of John’s mouth, stroked his tongue in and kissed him until John wasn’t crying at all anymore, just trembling, just loose and shaken all apart. 

“Laf?” John whispered when they parted, feeling like he didn’t know how to be in his own skin anymore. 

“It’s alright, little one. Come on, let me bathe you, let me put some salve on your welts. You were so brave, you did so good.” Lafayette shifted, lifted John up in his arms and carried him to the tub. Sat down with John between his legs, cradled in the warm water. 

John sagged against Lafayette, felt numb and loose, something inside him settling as his heart rate slowed and he started to feel like he could breathe again. 

Lafayette washed him with as much care as if he was a baby bird, soft cloth cleaning away the come, sweat, and tears, so similar to the night before, but without the heavy weight of guilt, without the sick feeling of failure, without the pain in Lafayette’s eyes… 

John took a deep, shaky breath, felt everything in him start to calm, felt almost glowy.

Pulled Lafayette into a deep kiss, tried to kiss all the depth of love and gratitude in his body right into Lafayette’s mouth. 

Lafayette moaned softly, held John close and kissed him back, then pulled back and kissed all over John’s face until John was laughing softly, and Lafayette was laughing too, and everything felt warm and safe and John didn’t feel like he was breaking inside for the first time in as long as he could remember. 

Lafayette towelled him dry, made him drink some juice and eat a cookie, rubbed healing salve into the welts on his body, the raw flesh at his wrists and ankles. 

Lay him out in the bed, blankets and pillows back now, and kissed every inch of his body until John was laughing again, and reaching up for another deep kiss, tongues tangling in a lazy haze of afterglow until Lafayette pulled away and snuffed the last candle. 

John nuzzled close, face in Lafayette’s neck, fell asleep wrapped tight in Lafayette’s arms, and slept better than he had in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA: practice safe kink, kids. It's probably a good idea to talk to your partner about anything you want to try, rather than just springing it on them. Also, probably work your baby sub up to stuff, don't just... throw them off the deep end. There are some moments in this chapter that are a little questionable, please don't try this at home! Be smart & safe & communicate with your partner!!!! 
> 
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> Thanks for reading! Next installment soon I promise :)


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